Criminal
by newgirl87
Summary: Tonks and Lupin work together before the Order to help stop muggle baiting and bank robbers. WARNING: Mildly graphic violence.
1. Failure

Not mine, yadda yadda yadda.

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**Failure**

_Auror Training Grounds_

_24 August, 1993 - 10:39 PM _

Nymphadora Tonks was huddled behind a large tree on the top of a small hill. Every few moments she took a chance to glance around it, take quick notes of who was where, and dive behind it once more. She had been through the motion six times already but hadn't made any sign that she realized there was danger behind her. Granted the storm raging around them was extremely challenging to the senses, Alastor Moody had seen his young student observe a banshee from more than a mile away, in the fog, with hideously pink ear muffs on. Any other student, who had completed this much training, would have noticed the tall man trailing them minutes ago. For Moody, he fumed that his young protege was not living up to her title.

"Constant Vigilance!" His bark echoed through the rain. It'd been pouring so hard the grass was flooding; which made him worry more - Tonks would slip on dry concrete if given the chance, provide a little wetness and she would be on her face in the seconds it would take for him to warn her.

"Will you ever stop saying that?!" She yelled across the rain drenched hill, then suddenly disappeared from view.

Moody shook his head and rose from his hideout. He apparated over to her station and found her sprawled on her stomach, face coated in mud. He didn't bother to help her up, if she was ever going to learn to be sturdy on her feet she would have to learn there was no help given to those who have fallen. Quite the contrary, for an Auror, those who fall often never get back up.

"Get your head in gear, lass!" Moody bellowed as a loud clap of thunder was heard overhead. She finished picking herself up, rolled her eyes at the mud on her robes, and tried doing a cleaning spell. It was only halfway decent given the amount of rain still falling on her robes.

"I was just..." She tried defending herself, but stopped, knowing it was useless. Once Moody came into the simulation, your time was over and you failed whatever it was he'd been testing you on. He ignored her remark and grabbed her arm harshly, apparating them both back to training quarters.

She pulled her arm out of his hand and moved to sulk in the corner of the tiny room. Moody was an excellent teacher, certainly one of the scariest, which was why anyone who excelled under his wing usually excelled in the field. It was because of this she usually didn't mind his abrupt tactics or fear inducing methods. But when he didn't even give her the chance, she steamed at him.

"I was doing just fine - " She barely managed to say.

" - you were working in dangerous territory. You were surrounded on all sides, but only paying attention to one; your wand was not at the ready; your feet were not in a defensive posture; and your eyes were not scanning to find an escape or other possible attackers. Where's your brain, girl?" Moody, still bellowing even though they were in a small room with no thunder to contend.

To many, he would have seemed gruff and annoyed. With her trained ears she caught the disappointment in his voice. She sighed and turned to face him. Both of his eyes were on her, and she wondered, not for the first time, if his magical eye could see through her mind as well as her skull.

"I thought I was doing alright." Was her lame response. Moody's disappointment was the hardest blow he could have dealt. It meant he respected her, and that respect might be waning.

"If you were paying attention at all, you'd know how wrong y'are." He moved toward the cabinet that was filled with his teaching supplies. She'd learned on her first day with him that he kept the strangest of things for his students: muggle weapons, ancient torture devices, broken wands, a telephone, and, weirdest of all, a small grouping of crystal vials each containing a memory.

It was through those memories that Moody's worst lessons were taught. He knew quite well that seeing was what lead directly to understanding. Often, it was not enough to explain or theorize, the best equipped would be those who have seen what they're up against. Those students were the ones that would go most cautiously into the field and would win because of it.

In the first few months she had trained with Moody, Tonks had been through nearly all of the memories in Moody's stock - having made many of the mistakes that led him to believe she needed them. There was only one left that she hadn't seen, and she'd been very curious, if slightly frightened, to know what it contained. All of the memories were from convicts, victims and former Aurors - each of whom she'd met after learning their stories; or at least those who were still remaining for her to meet. It was to her excitement, then, when Moody reached for this last vial.

"Since you're no good in the field today, let's try something less hands on." He said as he turned to find his pensieve.

Tonks allowed herself the moment to wonder which famous witch or wizard she'd be following this time. She had seen vampires, several traitorous aurors, criminals who had died in Azkaban, and she even had a peak at a startling duel between Dumbledore and Voldemort five years before he was defeated by little Harry Potter. Moody's gruff voice startled her out of her reverie and she gave him her full focus. Whichever wizard this would be, she was sure the lesson would be as violent and scaring as the others. She shivered slightly as Moody poured the contents of the vial into his pensieve.

"Who's memory is it this time, Mad-Eye?" She asked sullenly: the contents coming out were some of the longest yet.

"Mine," was the response, and she nearly jumped back in surprise. Moody was not a person who shared things - except his criticism. Not expecting any other explanation, Tonks waited while Moody prepared the room. Even though it was on Auror training grounds he never left it without placing as many protective enchantments around it as possible. "You never want to be caught in a memory - remember Richard Atkinson!" Moody's voice, she thought wearily, was an ever growing presence in her mind.

Once he'd completed his rounds, he nodded for her to enter. She took a deep breath, expecting the worst, and dived in, Moody not far behind her.

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	2. The Memory

WARNING: Here be the mild graphic violence I mentioned in the summary. Shouldn't be anything worse than you might see in a pg-13 movie(?). Let me know if it's too much.

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**The Memory**

_Unknown Town, England_

_23 May, 1986 - 6:34 PM_

There were small houses on a small block in a small town. There were few trees, and still fewer gardens. Nothing looked cared for, and even less looked liked home. Yet, not far away there was the sound of children laughing, dogs barking merrily, and the odd chatter of the older folks watching the world from their porches. Tonks watched as the memory Moody apparated in the middle of an alley, looked both ways and then approached the main road. The chatter died away at the sudden appearance of such a strange looking man, dressed in dark blue robes, long hair with a scarred face. Moody moved toward the left end of the block, where the houses seemed to get even shabbier.

He moved quickly down the row of houses. Tonks ran to keep up, foolishly so, knowing that even if she stayed in one place the memory would pull her along the way. The real Moody stood watching the scene unfold with a forced look of nonchalance on his twisted face. The memory Moody was moving easily through the neighborhood, seemingly unbothered by the other people. Even when he came, finally, to the small house near the end of the block, his look of ease continued.

He surveyed the house, then walked up through the main gate. Dusk had fallen and the sounds of the neighborhood seemed to die away as he neared the dilapidated building. It fit in well with the rest of the block, but also stood out - unlike the rest, nobody occupied this property. The garden was nothing but weeds, the door was nearly off it's hinges, and the siding and windows were everything but non-existent.

Without checking to see if it supported his weight, memory Moody walked up the short staircase, onto the porch and peered in through the main windows. This was, perhaps, the oddest thing Tonks could have expected to see. As far as she'd been able to tell there had been no back-up called, no other Aurors - not even a partner - and certainly, for Moody to not wonder at a broken down home's stairs was cause for alarm. Her only thought, as memory Moody entered the house, was that this must have been very early in his career. The thought was immediately erased, however, when he quickly turned around at the sound of the closing door: she saw his one eye was magical. Tonks quickly did the math and decided this must have happened after the war, which made it all the more strange, as Moody, at this time, would have been at the top of his game.

Memory Moody huffed at the door, as though it had offended him somehow, and set off through the cobwebbed hallway. The inside of the home was even worse than the outside. There was a thick layer of dust that coated every inch of the floors and walls. There was broken furniture scattered about, and animals living in the couch. One part of the ceiling had a large enough hole to see into, and Tonks was able to make out teeth marks along the edges. It was as though something had chewed it's way out. She shivered at the thought, not daring to wonder where this memory would lead her.

At the end of the hallway were three doors, two of which were split in half. The one in the middle, however, strangely, looked brand new. It sat perfectly in its frame, nicely polished with a large brass handle. This would be the door to choose, thought Tonks but even she knew that opening such a door without permission was a violation of Auror code #4672 and was thus immensely shocked when memory Moody grasped the handle and slowly entered the unknown passageway. Without potential aide to cover him, Moody was making one of the worst possible mistakes. She turned to look at her superior, questions burning in her eyes, but he choose to ignore those questions and beckoned her forward.

The door lead to a staircase, the length of which disappeared into darkness, as the walls pressed in on either side. They followed memory Moody down the stairs, wand tip lit and a look of annoyance on his haggard face. Tonks waited anxiously for the ambush she knew would be coming, and nearly jumped when the lights turned on overhead. Memory Moody seemed to be expecting this, having made no sign he noticed the new brightness other than a whispered, "Nox."

The staircase was leading them to another doorway, although this time everything was made of stone, as opposed to the wood from upstairs. There were still chunks of unidentifiable broken things scattered everywhere. Tonks was sure she saw a small snake slither soundlessly away, and noticed several small bones near a hole in one of the walls. Probably bones of dead rats, although that was a mere hope on Tonks' part. The lights flickered as Moody finally hit the bottom of the steps; it felt as though everything was being timed just so, and Tonks wondered if Moody was being watched. A similar thought seemed to occur to the memory Moody as he glanced behind himself, his magical eye spinning in every direction. It was only then that Tonks realized Moody would know if someone was in the house - he could see everything from where he stood, not having to worry about an ambush, or at the very least, knowing where one might occur. She didn't know why, but this made her even more nervous. Something happened on this night that Moody wanted her to see, to learn from; but if he'd seen everything already with that magical eye, then what could possibly go wrong?

Memory Moody was checking the doorway carefully, muttering to himself and placing his wand against the frame. He stood back gently, as though coming to some conclusion, then reached out to take the door knob. His gruff grunt was enough to make Tonks jump back this time, and she had to move around to see what had happened. There, in the palm of his hand, was a large burn. It wasn't just a burn, but a stamp of some kind - two small lightening bolts incased in a larger circle. Moody checked the door knob, muttered again, this time waving his wand a few times around it.

When he went to open the door again, Tonks held her breath. This time, the door yielded, and they entered another long hallway. This hallway was much different than the first, there were several doors leading off it to what appeared to be rather tiny rooms, as each door was spaced rather close to the next. There was nothing littering the ground this time, in fact, it looked as thought it had recently been swept. The lighting was much brighter and there was noise coming from the last door on their left. It sounded like a party - people were laughing and whooping, there was even the pop of someone opening champagne. Moody's eye was staring straight through the wall, watching with slight boredom the activities beyond.

In seconds, Moody's wand was up and the bright orange glow of the shield charm blocked the now open room from sight. There were two men standing behind the blasted down door, one with his wand raised at Moody, a smirk on his face. The second the shield charm was down spells started flying everywhere. In a haze of color, Tonks stared as Moody ran through the room blasting the two men to the side. They immediately rose and then ducked for cover as another wave of spells shot from Mad-Eye's wand. Everyone paused at the same moment, they were on either side of him now watching for the first sign of movement. Moody didn't move. Both eyes were trained on either man; the only sound was the small clock in the corner of the room. It had just changed to read 7:31 in bold red letters. If Moody was waiting for one of the men to move first he didn't have to wait long. The man to his right, surprisingly dressed in muggle clothing, jumped up, but not to attack. He lunged for the small telephone siting on the desk next to the clock. Moody shot a stunning spell that just missed, and in the seconds it took for surprise to befall his features the other man had grabbed him around the neck and kicked his wand out of his hand.

"Lesson number one: never overestimate yourself, never underestimate a muggle," the real Mad-Eye startled her from the action before her. Tonks nodded to show she had heard him and continued to watch as the memory slowly faded out and then back in.

"What...?" Tonks' question was answered as she watched Moody slowly awaken back in the first hallway on the main floor. There was no indication of how much time had passed. One thing was obvious - Moody was not getting away easily. He was shackled to a radiator and missing his magical eye. He looked around again, this time his one eye took in the large hole in the ceiling. Tonks glanced up. There was a large wolf, also, thankfully, shackled, in the room above them. He was eyeing Moody hungrily and started pacing back and forth, growling slightly. The only light in the room came from the moon, and as everything clicked in Tonks' brain, she hoped it had not been a full moon. A foolish hope, she realized, as Moody was certainly not a werewolf. But it didn't stop the chills running through her body.

A noise brought Moody's attention away from the wolf. A different man from the ones before, with a completely shaved head and dressed in robes, was walking towards him. He smiled when he noted Moody was awake. The bucket of water that was in the bald man's mittened hands was then dumped on Mad-Eye's head, and he let out a loud grunt as it scalded his skin. The steam rose up towards the wolf, who instantly back away from the heat. The man's smile broadened and he walked back towards the other doors. He did not go through the nicely polished door, but instead through the door to the right of it. From where she stood, Tonks could make out a large kitchen were three other men were eating. Their voices slowly drifted through the hallway.

"What are we gonna do with him?" asked one with a squeaky voice. The others only laughed in response.

"There is only one way to dispose of a body." Said one with a low baritone rumble.

"But he's not dead y -" the squeaky one was interrupted

"Silence." This person sounded older than the others.

"He will be soon enough." was the last reply from the baritone as they continued to eat.

Glancing at memory Moody, Tonks could see enough of his face to know he had heard the men. He took another quick look at the wolf then shifted his weight silently to stick his hand deep into his robes. A loud clank stilled his movements; the sound of chairs scrapping on wood was heard, as was the now hushed mumbling of the men. He hurried his search in his robes, but was far too late as light flashed in his face and four men came running at him.

"Stop that!" said the eldest. He looked about sixty years old, with a startling amount of gray hair coming out of his nose. As he spoke he slammed his fist into the arm Moody had down his robes.

"Where should we start?" the squeaker asked, looking both anxious and proud to be apart of the group.

"How about his leg?" the bald baritone who'd brought the water was reminiscent of the wolf above him as he started hungrily at Moody's leg.

The fourth man, who hadn't said a word, and was the one who had grabbed Moody around the neck during the battle downstairs, nodded to this suggestion and raised his wand. Each of the men sucked in a breath in anticipation and Tonks nearly covered her eyes knowing what was about to happen. The man made a slicing motion with his wand and pointed it directly at Moody's leg. Tonks had never heard Moody scream before. It was the only sound that rang out, and it echoed for minutes afterwards. The men watched briefly before taking the now separated bottom leg with them back down into the basement of the house.

"I'll never forgive them for taking it." the real Moody mumbled under his breath. He was surprisingly calm for having re-watched what was probably one of the worst experiences of his life.

Tonks, however, was not calm, and was trying desperately not to throw up. She stared at the blood. It just kept pouring out of the wound. The floor was drenched in minutes. She watched, with bile in her throat, and admiration in her chest for this exceptionally brave man, as he slowly lifted himself back up only to reach in his now blood-soaked robes and began searching again. Triumph brightened his face as his hand found what it was looking for, and Tonks nearly cheered when he pulled his hand out of his robes clutching a wand.

"Lesson number two: always have a hidden spare wand." Moody's sage advice never sounded more true.

The effort of finding the wand had been taxing for the memory Moody, and she wondered if he would even be able to use it. He fell back against the floor and closed his eyes briefly. He gripped his wand tighter and, with his eyes still closed, produced a shimmering patronus. It looked as though it would fade away, and it seemingly did, but only after a strong command from Moody's wand.

"A patronus? What - Why didn't you heal yourself?" The words fell from her mouth before she could stop them and she only looked up at Moody to apologize. He surprisingly answered her question.

"I was too weak, Tonks." She nearly struck herself, knowing how difficult healing charms were without being injured, this would have been quite impossible for anyone in such a situation.

Her other, thankfully unuttered, question was quickly answered as a man appeared quite suddenly, looking around nervously and paling at the sight of Moody on the bloody ground. He didn't bother with stupid questions, and went straight to look at the worst damage. Moody barely flinched at the man's sudden appearance, which meant he was expecting him - hence the patronus, Tonks thought.

"Don't, they aren't far away." memory Moody said, gasping slightly.

The man shook his head and started whispering healing charms. Again, it was always best to heed the advice of a master. The man had only managed to stop the blood from flowing freely before the men returned from the basement. The glow created by the tips of their wands illuminated the scene before them. The man, whose worn face grew rigid at the sounding footsteps, immediately jumped up to grab Moody. A curse flew past his head and he whipped around sending a startling array of spells towards the four other men, all of whom were fast approaching down the long hallway. The wall beside the man blew open and he stumbled on the rubble allowing a curse to hit him squarely in the stomach. He doubled over briefly before lunging at Moody, shooting six more spells showering at the, now only three, men. Once Moody's arm was around his neck, he sent one more curse past the men, and Tonks watched in astonishment as the hallway broke apart from the spell's power. The walls faded away and she found herself staring at the mannequin woman who welcomed patients to St. Mungo's.

"Remus Lupin with Alastor Moody, seeking immediate medical attention." The man said. In the light of the London street, Tonks could finally make out his features. He was a tall man, with shaggy brown hair and far too thin body; a body with a large, gapping wound in the stomach that was losing blood faster than Moody's leg had. His face showed fear as he looked at his companion in his arms. The mannequin nodded her response and allowed the two battle beaten men into her care.

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	3. Lesson Number Four

Thank you one reviewer! I quite agree with you in regards to Lupin.

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**Lesson Number Four**

_Auror Training Grounds_

_24 August, 1993 - 11:14 PM_

The memory disappeared and Tonks once again found herself in the small white training room with a completely healed, though thoroughly scarred Alastor Moody. She glanced at the man beside her, pride glowing in her chest. She knew he was a brave man, but she had never before been privy to the extent of his tribulations.

"What happened afterwards?" She asked, knowing he had survived but still not quite believing it.

"That's not the point." Moody, as always, was not keen on telling stories but telling their morals.

Tonks merely nodded her understanding, still trying to catch her breath and swallow the bile that was still stuck in her throat. She stared at the pensieve, hoping that something to focus on would help to still her furiously beating heart and churning stomach.

"You lived." She said, stupidly, and Moody could only roll his eyes at her - a trait, ironically, that he had picked up from the time he'd spent with her. "Did the other guy?"

"Lupin? Yeah," was the only response as Moody moved to put everything back in its proper place. For those who never knew him so closely, it was hard to realize how neat and organized he was - it didn't fit well with the scaring and ruff manner usually associated with him.

"I told you two things in there, I hope you remember 'em." Moody added, wandering around the room packing up from their activities of the day. "Two more things to always think about. And they're probably the most important thing I could tell you, so pay attention!"

Tonks' head snapped up, she'd been massaging her temples with her eyes closed, trying to visualize happier moments than the excessively bloody one she had just seen. She listened very intently to Moody almost every other time, and had found that she was able to store large amounts of information in her mind, especially when he was the one giving it to her. Yet, she had learned early on that Mad-Eye had a penchant for the words 'most important' and used them for nearly every lesson. Not that she believed her lessons were unimportant, she was, after all, learning about situations where life and death equaled the only two chances you had; but she didn't really believe that every lesson was 'most important'.

"You always say that Mad-Eye," Tonks also learned she had a penchant for calling him out on his weaker teaching points.

"Yeah, and it's always true." He had finished packing up the room, and was now beckoning her to follow him out to the main grounds. "Lesson number three - never go into battle, or even through a routine procedure if your mind is only half on the job. Irreparable damage is guaranteed to occur."

Mad-Eye had taken them to the one major hill on the grounds. The Auror training grounds was nothing more than 5000 acres of fields filled with obstacles, simulated battle environments, and one giant 10 kilometer tall hill. In the center of the fields there were three small square buildings that each housed one classroom and one medical bay. After three years of training, Tonks had now been to every part of the fields, the one and only part she truly hated was this 10k hill. It was also where she now stood facing Moody biting her tongue against the slew of complaints she usually issued every time she was forced to run up and down it's entirety.

Hoping to buy herself some time before the inevitable, she asked, "What was the last lesson?"

Moody turned to look at her with what she assumed was his version of a smile. "Was wondering if you were paying attention."

He didn't add anything more but took in the conditions of the grounds around them. The rain had finally stopped coming down, but the grass was still sopping wet, which would only make her run more difficult, and potentially dangerous.

"You will make mistakes. Everyone does, even the best of us." Moody's strange smile disappeared and he looked directly at her with both his eyes, "So always know one person you can count on in any situation. Count on them to get you out, should the need arise."

Tonks tried to hide her surprise. Mad-Eye was known for his paranoia; he didn't drink or eat anything that anyone had given him. Once, he burned an entire box of cookies that had arrived for him at headquarters, which turned out to have come from his mother. The entire office had taken a moment to laugh when Mad-Eye received a howler from the old woman; but even that episode hadn't stopped his insane distrust. So it was difficult for Tonks to believe that Moody had ever relied on anybody, and on top of that, that he was suggesting she do the same. It was the complete opposite of everything he had ever taught her since they started together six months ago.

"And this Lupin bloke, he's someone you can count on?" She emphasized the 'you', wanting to know how anyone ever got such a high distinction with Moody.

"Yes." Moody's less than revealing response annoyed her, and she opened her mouth to ask _why _Lupin was so highly regarded, but before she said anything, he barked, "Now get going up that hill, you're being timed!"

With that he started the stopwatch and Tonks sprinted away from him, her last thought, before focusing on her footing, was to remind herself to ask Moody what had become of this famous, to her mind anyway, Remus Lupin.

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	4. Fear of a Perverse Kind

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**Fear of a Perverse Kind**

_Apartment of Remus J. Lupin_

_30 June, 1994 - 7:56 AM _

"_He escaped, I'm afraid." Dumbledore's eyes were shinning in the dull morning light._

_"It's my fault, I didn't take the potion." Remus couldn't bear to look the Headmaster in the eyes, choosing instead to continue clearing out his study._

_"It is certainly not your fault. No, I will take no argument to the contrary." His reply was swift, Remus had opened wanted to contradict, but knew Dumbledore to be far too headstrong to take his word for it._

_"I'll be leaving then. I ran into one of my students on the way in. It appears Severus told his house what I am." Remus shook his head, refusing the question in Albus' eyes. If Dumbledore actually voiced a request for him to stay, Remus knew it would be very difficult to dissent. "I'll write out a letter of resignation as soon as I'm done here."_

_Dumbledore nodded and turned to walk out of Remus' room. Remus saw him on the map, but before he could say anything Pettigrew jumped out from one of the holes in the wall, quickly transformed, and spoke the worst possible words: "Avada Kedavra!"_

_His wand pointed at Dumbledore, and in a flash of green light, the headmaster fell to the ground. _

"NO!" Remus screamed, waking up from his dream. He had slept on the couch for the third night in a row and each night had yield a dream with Pettigrew attacking someone for whom he cared. The first night was Harry, the second was Sirius, and now it was Dumbledore. He wondered how many more of the dreams he would have to endure before he ever lost the guilt of allowing the traitor to escape. If he ever lost the guilt.

He sat up on the couch and gingerly set his feet on the ground. His transformation in the forbidden forrest had left him with horribly blistered feet and pain that seemed to stem from everywhere and nowhere at once. It took several hours most mornings before he was able to walk properly. He cringed as he put weight on his legs and stood up to stretch. Sleeping on the couch left his muscles achy and was a strong reminder that he was only getting older. And poorer, he thought as he remembered why he was sleeping on his couch in the first place.

Several days after returning home from Hogwarts, a hold was placed over his account at Gringott's so he wouldn't be able to receive any of the money he had made while teaching. This was another brilliant scheme from the ministry whose sole purpose seemed to concern the destruction of the lives of werewolves. So, thanks to the ministry, in order to pay his rent for that month it seemed reasonable to sell his bed. It was a good bed, and had brought in a decent amount of cash. Plus, he knew once he was able to get some gold he would be able to buy a cheaper one. In the meantime, he was forced to sleep on the couch - and to relive another, although this one was brand new, worst moment of his life.

He had just managed to hobble to the kitchen, his hand clutching the door frame in an effort to ease the weight from his now bleeding left foot, when he heard a knock at the door. Remus sighed, it was two feet to get to his sink, where he could pour himself some water and make some much needed tea; or he could limp the ten feet it would take to get to his front door. He decided tea was more important.

"Lupin Remus, open up, s'it's the M.L.E." cried a stern voice through the near hollow door.

Remus stared at the door uneffected. Someone from Magical Law Enforcement had been to his house four times since his return from Hogwarts. Each time they went through the same procedure: a question concerning the whereabouts of Sirius Black, a search of his apartment, and a letter from the head office requesting 'Remus J. Lupin not leave London for any purposes as he may be needed for questioning'. The temptation to ignore the knocker at the door was very strong, equally as strong as was his desire for tea. He turned away from the door and continued his path into his kitchen wondering where he had last left his kettle.

"Mister Remus, it's the M.L.E., please open y'r door!" a different voice yelled, this one was distinctly female. Remus chuckled to himself, these two didn't know how to read properly. He was sure the name on the form they were reading from was Last Name, First Name. He wondered how any two such people had ever been allowed to work for a Law Enforcement squad. Then he remembered they also worked for the ministry, where any idiot could get a job as long as they didn't sprout fur and claws once a month.

He found his tea kettle hidden beneath a pile of dishes and cursed as he knocked the entire pile down while trying to get at it. Now the people from M.L.E would know he was home. Indeed, as soon as the crash was over the knocking became more insistent. He took a deep breath to calm his annoyance, and slowly made his way to the door. The yelling had become louder and more crass.

"Mr. Remus, if ya don't open up this instant - " Remus opened the door to find a witch and a wizard, both of whom couldn't have been older than seventeen, staring up at him. He briefly wondered why he didn't remember teaching them.

"Right, now, if y'd just come with us." The wizard said. The bright green robes he was wearing had a large stain on the front of it, and his hand was trembling slightly as he pointed towards the street. His companion, after staring unabashedly at Remus' face quickly turned her head away and refused to meet his eyes.

"Why? Have I done something wrong?" Remus asked, his patience was already thin and the longer it took before he could make some tea the worse he knew the day would be. He looked down at his feet briefly and noticed another blister had popped. He was now bleeding from his right foot as well.

"S'order's." The wizard was still shaking slightly, but managed to produce an official looking paper and hand it to Remus. He looked it over, it was a letter requesting his presence at the Ministry of Magic, he cringed as he read 'for questioning'.

"Alright, do you two want to come inside, I was just about to put on some tea." He asked as politely as he could allow himself. It was a stupid question, the two M.L.E's eyes bulged with fear. Entering a werewolf's home was akin to entering a graveyard on halloween - it just wasn't done. Noticing the obvious distress, Remus added, "I'll be out in a minute. Just, let me get some shoes on." He pointed at his feet so they would understand, then slammed the door in their faces.

About ten minutes later, Remus found himself standing in the middle of the Ministry of Magic waiting for a lift to take him to up to M.L.E headquarters 'for questioning'. He still hadn't had his tea. He clenched his teeth in annoyance, his feet hurt, his back hurt, and he was sick of the stares he was receiving. The worst was the wide gap people made around him as he stood in the large hallway. If it hadn't been for the newspaper article that morning, concerning Dumbledore hiring a werewolf named Remus Lupin, he might have assumed the people were smart enough to recognize a very angry man when they saw one. As it was, they simply recognized a very real werewolf from his picture on the front page. He was almost glad when the lift finally arrived, although that relief was short lived as no person dared enter the small quarters with him. The doors slowly started to close as Remus realized that this was what it would be like from now on - people who knew what he was, he would be shunned even more so now than ever before. It came with some surprise then, when someone yelled "hold that door, please!"

Remus reached his arm out to stop the door, and came face to face with a man who could only be the father of the Weasely's. Remus allowed himself a slight smile. The red-headed man returned the smile with a breathy "thanks" and entered to join him on the ride. The man started reading through some papers hurriedly and took no other notice of Remus. He felt he should say something, ask if Percy had received the ministry job he had applied for; or ask if Ginny was still terrorizing her brother Ron? But it all seemed too forward, and the explanation of how he knew his children might make the man recoil in fear. He didn't like it, but simply having one person not tremble in his presence was enough and he didn't want to ruin it with chit-chat. Remus left the lift with the man still on it and turned to make his way towards the office of his questioner.

The questioning went as smoothly as could be expected. As a well-known werewolf and 'former' friend to Sirius Black very few people were content to believe he knew nothing about him. Dumbledore's word had been sufficient at keeping him out of Azkaban, but it didn't stop the doubt or the questions. It was almost surprising how quick everything went. Plus, his questioner, Marcy Tripp, was a nice middle-aged woman who seemed insistent that she be as polite as possible to everyone she ever met, no matter who they were.

"Hello, Mr. Lupin, it's so nice of you to come in today." She said as he sat down across from her at her desk, "I'll just be needing you to fill out some of these little forms here, don't worry they aren't very long and I'm sure I can get anything you need while you're here."

"Thank you," was all Remus found himself capable of saying - this was far from the treatment he'd received all day and it was a pleasant shock.

"But before I let you settle in with these forms, I've just got to ask you some questions. They're nothing to be worried about, in fact, I bet you do just fine. Are you comfortable, Mr. Lupin? Because there's another chair in the corner there, if you'd rather have that one?" It really didn't help that her voice rang as though she were speaking to a four year old before bedtime. Far too soothing for criminals, Remus found himself thinking.

"First, do you have any knowledge of the whereabouts of a Mr. Sirius Black?" She asked, her voice never wavering from that high range - he was waiting for her to reach over, pinch his cheeks and cry 'coocheecoo!'

"No, I do not." He found the shortest replies were the easiest on these M.L.E. types.

"And, have you had any contact with Mr. Black in the last week?" Her voice undulated slightly, as though singing him a lullaby. He wondered if she was trying to hypnotize him.

"No, I have not." He breathed deeply, this was more disconcerting than someone staring frightened over a list of questions trembling.

"And, lastly, are you aware of any contact Mr. Black might have had with anyone else?" She smiled apologetically.

"No, I am not." He smiled back, Sirius had always said he was too polite. Remus wished Sirius could meet this woman, they were in two completely different politeness leagues.

"Well, thank you very much, Mr. Lupin. I hope you've had as wonderful a time as I had." She was smiling broadly as she picked up a small stack of papers and handed it to him, "Now, you just fill this out and when you're done give them to me. It's been very nice working with you Mr. Lupin."

"Thank you, you too." He smiled confusedly, and took the papers and began filling them out. He wondered if she was polite to everyone, or if she had just taken a liking to him. Halfway through the paperwork he received an answer. A tall black man wearing an Auror uniform walked into the office.

"Why hello there, Mr. Shacklebolt, how lovely to see you today!" Marcy Tripp was a trip. Remus shook his head trying not to laugh. It didn't help that the Auror had such a deep mellow voice when he spoke. The two were such a contrast.

"Hello, Ms. Tripp, I was wondering if you had that file on Hans Vogel?" Shacklebolt's deep voice was far too penetrating for Remus to concentrate on his paperwork, he glanced up to watch the scene before him.

"Yes, I've got it right here. Young Miss Tonks requested it the other day, but brought it back almost immediately, silly girl. You're her senior aren't you?" Her voice was muffled as she searched under her desk for the file.

"Yes I am," Shacklebolt didn't seem too keen on sharing any other information as he glanced swiftly at Remus. Tripp found the file quick enough, and Shacklebolt left the office a bit more rushed than when he had entered. Remus smirked, an Auror afraid of a werewolf? Alastor would never have stood for it.

"How are you doing there, Mr. Lupin? Perhaps you'd like some tea? I was just going to go get some." Tripp stood up from her desk and looked at Remus expectantly. He smiled his first full smile of the day and nodded.

"That would be wonderful, Ms. Tripp." His day seemed to be picking up.

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	5. The Assignment

_Cafe Hoggle _

_30 June 1994 - 12:03 PM_

Despite the rapidity of Marcy Tripp's questions, she wasn't the only one Remus was forced to see that day. After receiving his tea and finishing his forms he was rushed from office to office simply to be asked the same questions again and again. By the time he was free to leave it was already the lunch hour and Remus was starving. He had only had the one cup of tea with Marcy, having been rushed from his home without a chance for breakfast.

After making his way out of the Ministry he found a small muggle cafe and decided to try it. Muggles had no idea what he was, and would at least treat him like a normal human being. Because of his condition, Remus often found himself living amongst muggles simply to pay his rent. They were the only ones who were willing to give him a job. So, luckily, he always carried a small amount of muggle money wherever he went.

The Cafe Hoggle was small, there were only three places to sit in the whole place. It was more of a carry out place than a restaurant, but Remus didn't mind. He found himself enjoying the people watching he could do with everyone out on their lunch break. It was this distraction that kept him from noticing the man who approached his table. Remus nearly jumped with surprise to see the Auror Shacklebolt standing almost on top of him.

"Do you mind if I join you?" the Auror asked, waving to the seat opposite Remus. Remus could only nod, knowing surprise was evident on his face.

Shacklebolt sat down and started to unwrap his sandwich. He had also bought food from the muggle shop. This was even more surprising to Remus, before he remembered that Moody kept muggle money with him at all times as well - something to do with always being prepared for any situation. Perhaps all Auror's took a similar attitude. Remus' full attention was now on the Auror in front of him - yet the man did not seem to want to be the first to speak as he continued to munch away at his sandwich and would glance out the window every now and then.

"You're Auror Shacklebolt." Remus said suddenly, for lack of anything better to say he figured he should at least get the man's name right.

"Yes I am." The Auror replied, still chewing a piece of tomato. "Sorry, but I'm very hungry, there is a reason why I'm here though, but why don't we get to that once we're both finished with our meals?"

Remus nodded his assent, and picked up his own sandwich trying not to stare at the large Auror before him. The man did not seem frightened of him, and Remus was beginning to think that had been a false assumption. Auror's are busy people, perhaps he had to get back to his work on whatever that file had been. But what the Auror was now doing here in the cafe with Remus, was beyond his deductive powers. He could only hope it had nothing to do with the whereabouts of Sirius Black. It was one thing if Magical Law Enforcement was doubtful, it was an entirely different story if the Auror's didn't believe him. They were more likely to throw him in Azkaban even if Dumbledore backed his story. It didn't take long before both men were done eating. Shacklebolt sipped his drink thoughtfully as he regarded Remus across from him.

"We weren't properly introduced, I believe, I'm Kingsley Shacklebolt." The Auror held out his hand. Remus smiled slightly, wondering if it was a good sign or a bad sign that the man in front of him wasn't afraid of touching a werewolf.

"Remus Lupin." He took Shacklebolt's hand and Remus was glad he didn't try a vice grip. However, he remained wary of the Auror, they were very tricky people sometimes.

"Mr. Lupin, I need to request your service." Shacklebolt, apparently didn't have any trouble going straight to the point.

"What service is this?" It had been over ten years since he had worked with any Aurors. The last time would remain in his memory until the day he died it was so gruesome.

"I know you worked with Alastor Moody in the past. He speaks very highly of you." Kingsley Shacklebolt appeared to be a mind reader. "The mission is very dangerous, and exceptional skill is required. I was warned by Dumbledore that you would be modest on that account."

Remus had opened his mouth to deny he had any exceptional skills except maybe with dark creatures - but that came naturally more than anything else. He stopped when he realized what Shaklebolt had said. He'd spoken to Dumbledore already. This Auror was good.

"Did Dumbledore recommend me?" He asked, his curiosity beginning to grow.

"Not exactly. I asked him about you after I realized you were an ideal candidate for the job." Shacklebolt's honest answer was surprising, and very refreshing.

"What is the job?" His curiosity had got the better of him, but a small voice was reminding Remus that, often enough, money was involved when working for the Aurors. And maybe that hold on his Gringott's account might disappear.

"It's small, there are only three of us who are working on it at the moment." Shacklebolt smiled slightly, his deep voice sounding strange as a whisper, "We believe we have a leak."

After the events of two weeks ago, Remus found his blood ringing in his ears. There were traitors in every group, and it was sickening.

"I take it that's why we're meeting here and not at the Ministry?" Remus asked, trying to contain his anger. Any traitor was enough reminder of the way things could have been.

"Yes. Although they do make incredible sandwiches here." Shacklebolt replied. Remus almost laughed, in all the years he'd worked with Moody, he had never met an Auror with a sense of humor.

"What do you want me to do?" Remus grew serious.

"Before I can tell you, I have to know you'll do it." Shacklebolt was glancing out the window again, the cafe was not far from the ministry. Anyone might see them together.

"I have to know, if only for the sake of living and eating, will I be paid?" It was a question Remus hated asking, especially when it was clearly a desperate time.

"Yes, and you will have full immunity if anything should happen." The job was extremely serious if Shacklebolt was offering immunity to a werewolf. Remus thought briefly; he didn't have a job, and was unlikely to get one anytime soon; the only friend he had was on the run from the very people he might be working for, and his parents had both passed years ago; it would be worth taking the job just to have the ministry off his back, but to be paid as well: it was almost too good to be true.

"Alright. I'm in." He offered his hand. It was a gesture he went through with Moody many times before, his handshake was as good as his word. Shacklebolt shook it and immediately gave him the details.

"There's a group of wizards who have been together for a while now. We've been monitoring their activities for years, but have never had the chance to get real evidence. What we need is someone on the inside who can tell us when and where they're likely to strike next. We need you, Remus, to join their group and keep us consistently updated on their movements. We need to break this group, and we need to do it before they get any stronger." Shacklebolt then wrote down an address and a name on his napkin and handed it to Remus. "This is where they recruit, this man is the one who will probably talk to you. They love werewolves - know how much the ministry works against them; they think because of this they'll be loyal to anyone but the ministry, which is usually true, and where you come in. I suggest you tell them that Dumbledore sacked you, that you can't get a job anywhere because of the Ministry, that they've been bugging you for days, etcetera, you can play it however you think you should. But once you let it slip that you're a werewolf, I guarantee they'll take you in."

"Who do I contact and where, once I am in?" Remus was staring at the napkin, he'd been to the area once before and it still gave him nightmares.

"You'll be in contact with Tonks, she's a junior Auror - "

"You're her senior, I remember" Remus interrupted

"Yes, you'll be meeting her for lunch at the Harbor Dog's Inn next thursday, she'll be disguised as an elderly woman, and I'm to instruct you to call her Aunt Jose." Shacklebolt chuckled slightly at this last bit of information.

"What do they do exactly, or what do you think they do?" Remus began making a list of all the things he might need in the next coming weeks.

"They rob muggle banks, then change the money into wizard gold. But it's hard to prove it's wizard's who are breaking in, usually it's muggles who are caught." Shacklebolt shrugged apologetically, "That's all we have on them. It's pathetic with the amount of work that's gone into this project."

"Is there anything else I should know?" Remus asked, noticing the lunch crowd had finally thinned.

"If there is, Tonks will let you know." Shacklebolt stood up and looked around once more before adding, "Oh, the hold on your Gringott's account has been taken care of, you'll receive your first payment at the end of July."

Remus left the cafe with a sense of foreboding, it had been many years since he had last worked with Aurors, and he was sure things had changed. He was also sure he had changed. He looked down at the napkin in his hand, the address 69 Thurberry Lane and the name Hans Vogel stared back at him. He shuddered as the memories resurfaced. Apparating back to his apartment, Remus sighed looking at the dilapidated building. As he entered his gate he felt another blister pop, and wondered if he was physically, let alone magically, able to pull off the daunting task before him.

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	6. Aunt Jose and Her Nephew

Thanks to my reviewers, the few of you out there. You guys make my day!

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**Aunt Jose and Her Nephew **

_Harbor Dog's Inn_

_7 July, 1994 - 12:34 PM_

"There you are!" She cried, "How could you keep your old Aunt waiting like that? It was very rude of you, Remus."

She was old, very old, complete with walking stick, hunched back, and large metal grocery basket with wheels. Her gray hair fell forward as she leaned to get a closer look at him. Remus couldn't help feeling slightly uncomfortable at the way she was staring. She took him in - tattered black shirt with threadbare khaki pants and worn out shoes that had probably come from the fall line of 1984. The lines on his face matched neatly with the gray in his shaggy hair and she noticed he hadn't yet shaved that day. She gave him a toothless smile and nodded to the hostess to have them seated. He returned the smile only halfway and followed the two women into the restaurant.

The Harbor Dog's Inn had turned from hotel to restaurant some forty years previous but the owners had never bothered with changing the name. It was a family restaurant that was always packed for each big meal of the day. It was known for it's lunch specials, prices were guaranteed lower than anywhere else. The atmosphere was bubbling, people talking, laughing, shouting, dishes clanging in the background while kids chased each other much to the wait staff's dismay. Remus was very grateful for the rather secluded table in the back the hostess brought them to, and found, to his surprise and delight that not only was it much quieter, it had a full view of the rest of the restaurant. Tonks might be a bit bubbly for an auror, but she did seem to know her trade.

"Here are your menu's, would you like to know the specials today?" The hostess asked, handing them each a large paper menu.

"No, thank you," Tonks waved the woman away and glanced over her menu. Remus looked through his briefly, not being able to resist looking around the room every few seconds. The boisterous families surrounding them was excellent cover for potential eavesdroppers. Yet, it didn't stop Remus from wondering who might be watching.

"Relax Remus, I'm your Aunt Jose, you're my adorable nephew and no one is going to guess otherwise." Tonks looked up at him, still smiling. Remus began to wonder if she was playing the part or was actually always so relaxed and happy. He also wondered if she had just called him adorable.

"Yes, I just don't know what I'll tell any of my new colleagues if they were to see me here with you." Remus checked the room again, he wasn't worried but it didn't hurt to check.

"You'd just tell 'em that I'm your dear Aunt Jose, who needs a special medication for her lungs that costs a fortune and is part of the reason you're aspiring to be a bank robber." She raised her eyebrows in question - _would that work?_

"Yes, that sounds good." He made a point to stare at his menu as he spoke. From his peripheral vision he could see her chuckling at him.

It wasn't long before a waiter interrupted their silence and took their orders. Once he left they started to discuss the case. Remus had only just been allowed to join the day before and was still sketchy on some of the finer points. Most of the men in the group, and it was mainly men, were surprisingly keen on sharing their exploits especially after a few rounds of drinks.

He told Tonks, as they were waiting for their food, that the group was wide spread. Many of the men had performed jobs with similar groups all around the continent - places in France, Germany, Switzerland, Spain, the Netherlands, and even some cities in southern Greece had been hit by their group. They were very professional and none of them had ever been caught. They had muggles join but they played the role of patsy in each scenario. The muggles were always unaware they were working with wizards.

"So it's not going to work to catch them on a small charge like that." Remus said.

"Do you know where they plan to hit next?" Tonks asked as the food arrived.

"Not specifically, but they are hoping to do a multitude of them in the same period of time. It's going to be bigger than anything they've planned before. The idea being to stretch the authorities as far as they can." Remus chewed his steak thoughtfully.

"Then they know we're on to them." This time Tonks took a look around the room, "do you know who's in charge? The head-honcho guy?"

"No, I only know the few guys who were at the bar the nights I went there." Remus swallowed nervously, he hadn't wanted to mention it, but it fell out of him before he could stop it, "I think before I'm actually allowed in, I'll have to do something. I don't know what," he added, seeing the question on her face, "but it did seem like it would be either very difficult or very dangerous. Some kind of test or initiation."

"Anything you have to do, do it. We expected something like this, s'it's why we gave you immunity." Tonks took a sip of her drink. "If you can let us know what it is, before it happens, we might be able to give you some help. Especially if it's something disturbing."

"I have a feeling it will be" He dropped his napkin on the table, slightly defeated by the prospect, "These people have murdered before, and are prepared to do so again." He blinked a few times, "I think they look forward to it."

The way the men spoke about their 'kills' and their conquered women, Remus had felt like he'd been transported to ancient Sparta. Their ideas about life were completely archaic, and their only interest was money. Anything that got in between them and their money was either thrown aside or trampled to death. They also hated anyone who worked within the law. If they were to find out Remus was a spy for the Aurors he would be tortured beyond measure before he was allowed to die, he was sure of it. They had made it most apparent from the gruesome stories they told.

"How should I contact you if I need to meet with you or there's an emergency?" Remus asked, they had just ordered desert and were waiting for it's arrival. Tonks watched as Remus sat calmly across from her. He was a veteran at these missions yet she couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't telling her something, something important - how he felt about the mission. He gave excellent details, and had been very good at gathering the necessary information. But how he felt while on the job was just as important, it could effect the entire project.

"Send an owl? We really haven't figured that one out yet, or at least not with people who aren't aurors." She thought about the best way to approach the subject of his worries or complaints, if he had any, "Do you have any suggestions?"

"I assume you can produce a patronus?" He asked, at her nod he continued, "Then once your patronus is in front of you, think of a message and then think of who you want to send it to. Your patronus will appear at their feet and relay the message."

"Really?" She gaped at him, how had the aurors not thought of that?

"Yes, really." He smiled at her surprise. His first real smile, she thought, he should do it more, it made him look younger. She almost laughed, really, it made him look his age.

"Then I'll expect your patronus should something arise. In the meantime," She took a bite of the chocolate cake in front of her, "we'll meet weekly to exchange notes. How does next Tuesday sound?"

"Where?" His eyes shifted towards the entrance, a muggle who looked strongly like Hans Vogel had just walked it. Remus looked again, his heart racing, and decided he was seeing things. He was so prepared to run into someone he was making it up.

"Ever been to the Horny Goat?" She asked smirking at his astonishment.

"Would Aunt Jose be seen some place called the Horny Goat?" He asked, returning her smirk. She chuckled slightly.

"Sure, why not? Perhaps she had a fling with the bartender there and it holds some exciting memories," she wagged her eyebrows suggestively and he couldn't help but laugh.

"Did she?" His cheeky response earned him a dropped jaw, slight reddening in the face and an avoided question.

"How does eight sound?" She took the last bite of the cake, and huffed lightly at his knowing smile.

"Sounds good," He waved over their waiter to get their bill. She grabbed it from him before he had the chance to see it. He made a short spurt of protest but she shook her head and pulled out her purse.

Once the bill was paid they walked out together. Tonks suggested they walk a few blocks before apparating, as it was obvious Remus was the sort of bloke who would walk his old Aunt home. He had been inclined to agree and was a bit surprised when she placed her arm through his and leaned against him. Acting, as he knew she was, though false it was nice to have someone who didn't cringe at his touch.

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	7. Initiated

Sorry this took so long. I know exactly where I'm going with it, and I promise it will be finished eventually, just stick with me for a bit as I have lots of different projects I'm working on at the moment. Hope you enjoy!

Warning: More mild violence.

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**Initiated**

_Horny Goat Tavern_

_11 July, 1994 – 8:42 PM_

She had been waiting at the back table for over forty minutes and still there was no sign of Remus. Worry had set in thirty minutes prior, and now she was nothing but a ball of nerves sipping, as steadily as possible, her double firewhiskey. Staring at the door did not help the situation, every man who walked in looked exactly like Remus and every time she saw the threadbare coat and streaked grey hair she jumped. Tonks knew she probably looked mentally disturbed, which she hoped would only strengthen the belief that Aunt Jose needed Remus to rob a bank should there be any eavesdroppers tonight.

The bar itself was crawling with old men and younger women, both sides looking for the same thing. If she hadn't been in disguise she would have fit in perfectly. The bartender had been eying her suspiciously for some time now, and she knew she would have to order another drink soon. Nursing a double firewhiskey was not easy to do for an hour without looking odd, but she did not like drinking on the job.

The door opened, and once more a man who could have easily passed as Remus walked in. She jumped again, as was her habit, and knocked her drink over. Now she would have to get another one. She cleaned the broken glass with one swift spell that left even herself impressed. Once she was done staring at her handiwork, still surprised she could do such a decent scourgify in such a situation, she looked up only to find the man who had just entered sitting in front of her.

This could not be Remus.

This man, although wearing a patched shirt and scuffed brown shoes, had bruises and scratches all down his face, his knuckles were broken on his left hand, and she was quite sure he had walked in with a bad limp on his right side. She took in his entire face trying to determine why such a man would want to talk to an old lady when she noticed his eyes. Those soft brown eyes staring gently at her belied the ugly violence plastered on his face. His brown fringe hanging over his forehead held the few traces of grey she hadn't been able to take her eyes off during their last meal. Still staring she noticed there was the beginning of a smile shining through the pain.

"I'm in." He croaked, leaning on the table in exhaustion.

"Remus?" She whispered, shocked that he could be so transformed after only a few days apart.

"Yes?" He asked, closing his eyes for a moment, grasping his head in his uninjured hand.

"What happened?" She found her voice again and pulled out her wand. Didn't he know a proper healing spell?

"I was initiated. I'm in." He repeated with a sigh.

She began with simple healing spells, working out the bruises on his cheek and chin. Then she moved to what she had taken to be scratches but what she found were really knife wounds etched all around his face. The more she poked and prodded his wounds the more he seemed to bleed. He sat silently throughout her ministrations, eyes closed. She briefly wondered if he had fallen asleep. The bleeding slowly ebbed and he began to look more like himself. Finally, she tapped his left hand and watched the bones settle back into their proper place.

"Thanks." He said, eyes still shut tight, voice still rough.

"Let me get you a drink."

She moved around the table and headed to the bar. The floor was slippery beneath her feet from the amount of beer spilled. She dared a moment to look down to make sure she didn't slip and realized it was not only beer that tainted the floor. There was a trail of blood that made its way from the main door to the seat where Remus sat. She swallowed and took a deep breath. She ordered two of the same – a double firewhiskey was the cure-all for Aurors and criminals alike – and walked back to Remus as quickly as she could.

"You're bleeding." She told him as she sat the two glasses down, spilling only a little from each.

"I know," he responded uncaring. Picking up his glass more of the whiskey slipped down the sides as his hand couldn't keep steady. He drank half of it in one gulp and slammed the glass on the table spilling the rest of it.

"Where are you bleeding, let me take a look." She was trying to nice about it, but his indifference was testing her patience.

"Somewhere you can't look when were in a public place." He slurred, and resumed holding his head up with his hand. "Don't you want to know what happened?"

"Not while you're bleeding on the floor!" She hissed, people were starting to notice the blood, some even had the audacity to point at them.

"Well then, why don't we get a room?" He wagged his eyebrows suggestively and then laughed derisively.

"Are you drunk?" The question was more rhetorical than true, and she could only shake her head as he nodded affirmatively. "Come on then."

She stood and took his arm to help him up. They hobbled to the bar, Remus sliding slightly from all the various liquids on the floor. The barkeep gave them the key to room 306. Every action they took was followed carefully by all the patrons in the bar. Any low profile they might have had was gone.

Going up the stairs was hazardous, Remus couldn't walk straight and Tonks had difficulty holding him up. He was far heavier than he looked. The two flights of stairs they had to take were narrow and rickety, any false step might have landed them back on the main floor. Luckily they didn't meet anyone coming down the stairs, and after a few minutes they found their room.

It was a tiny room, the bed taking up most of the space between the walls. There was a dresser and a bathroom hidden off to the side. Tonks placed Remus on the bed as gently as she could manage and then made her way to the bathroom were she found several towels. When she returned to the room, Remus had resumed a seated position in the bed, his head leaning against the backboard with the strain of the day wearing on his face.

The blood was coming from a large gash in his right thigh. The bleeding had slowed but the sheer size of the wound kept it open.

"I should have asked for a bottle of vodka." Tonks spoke aloud to herself as she examined his leg. She would have to cut the leg of his pants in order to garner the extent of the injury. She was going to need something to clean it.

"No. No more vodka." His voice, still creaking but in a softer tone. He was almost whispering to her.

She merely nodded, even though he couldn't see her, and continued her inspection. Taking out her wand she slowly cut through his pant leg, easing the threads apart without touching his skin. Once she had cut through most of the material she used her hands to rip off the rest.

"Aaggh," sounded from Remus' throat. She had accidentally touched his wound as she ripped the material away from his leg.

"Sorry!" She whispered, "sorry."

She pulled off what was left of his pant leg. Lighting the tip of her wand she could make out why the wound was so bad.

It was a deep cut and there were obvious traces of the knife left over. It must have been a very blunt knife to have created such a jagged outline.

"They did it to everyone." He explained. Sweat was slowly building on his forehead and he chuckled again. "They buy you round after round of drink, and then each guy takes a turn hitting the others. One punch each."

He paused to catch his breath. Her wand seeped the blood away and she began cleaning the wound.

"Course, there are fifteen of us new guys, so that's fourteen hits each. And some of those guys...some of those guys are huge." His breathing was becoming increasingly more ragged as he spoke, "Then, after we're all beat, Hans comes after us with the knife. Everyone has to have that cut in their leg, it's how they tell each other apart."

Finally, she had managed to sew up the cut. Conjuring gauze she wrapped his leg carefully to keep it safe. He was shaking and the sweat was pouring from him, she knew he was going into shock.

"That's enough, Remus. Take it easy a moment." She spoke gently and rested a hand on his shoulder to try and calm him.

He leaned forward in earnest, fighting against the pain and exhaustion, "Don't you see!...We can use that to track them!"

The strength fell out of him with those words and he fell back against the headboard completely passed out. Knowing his body was still in shock she took off his coat and settled him under the bedsheets. After several tense minutes, wondering if he was going to stabilize, his breathing returned to normal and Tonks was left to consider what he had said.

It seemed so stupid to force everyone in their group to have this scar on their legs. It only made sense psychologically: anyone who was initiated would feel like they were a full member of the group and would do anything for the group, after such an ordeal a person would feel like they would have to do anything for the group, that it was worth while. It made less sense when considering how intelligent these people were. They had been in the business for years it seemed and had never been caught, so why do something that would so easily mark them as criminals?

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Please, please, please review!!! Thanks!


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